


The Last Shelf

by Laetitia_Laetitii



Category: Runescape
Genre: Gen, Mahjarrat, Original Character(s), Second Age, Senntisten, Zarosian Empire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 22:50:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laetitia_Laetitii/pseuds/Laetitia_Laetitii
Summary: A collection of scraps and shorts from the days of the Zarosian Empire.Some of these were previously archived as separate fics, but since these are all on the short side, I thought it would be more reader-friendly and practical to have the lot in one series.





	1. The Last Shelf

**Author's Note:**

> Nota bene: The first chapter is also included in "World Guardian Shorts."
> 
> Most of my Second Age shorts are here while, "The Lottery and the Feast" and "Dareeyak Fragments", remain archived separately.

_I asked Ali the Wise about the last shelf. He says the notebooks and scrolls on it are from a bygone era, relics of a lost world, most of them fragments and almost all somehow damaged._

_When I asked if I could have a look at them ( and he knows how much I love old books) he looked away, and said it wasn’t the time for that yet. Turning his back to me, he picked up the canopic jar from the table and studied it carefully, as if the painted palmettes and lotuses  held an answer he was looking for._

_Finally, he looked up again._

_“I’ll tell you what”, he said. “If we both survive attending the Mahjarrat Ritual, I’ll translate some of them for you. If only you survive, you can come down here and read whatever you want, if you can only understand it.”  
_

_I said we had a deal._


	2. The Death of Annakarlian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In October 2015 I was getting started on a story set in the Zarosian Empire, which featured a brief reference to a treatise on the art of public speaking. I started to think of a name for the author of the story, and somehow this happened.  
> I never wrote that Empire story.

_At the end the orator Annakarlianus was convicted of incitement of unrest and sentenced to death._

_However, it was agreed that while he was an immoral rabble-rouser, the great speaker was also a man of immense intelligence and learning, such as is rarely produced by his race. It would be wasteful, the judge declared, to have all that knowledge removed from earth, and so he ordered the man to be consumed rather than beheaded._

_Immediately an argument broke out among the Chthonian nobles over who would get to eat the speaker and gain all his wisdom. Some pleaded their age or rank, others their education, and the judge called for order in vain. As the argument threatened to turn into something uncivilized, Annakarlianus raised his hands, and over the din he professed that if he was to be eaten, he would prefer to be eaten by someone worthy. His wisdom would go to waste if he was killed, but it would also go to waste if he was consumed by someone who did not have the brains or the education to understand it. Thus, he said, the demon who ate him should be intelligent, learned, and of good character. He had such a demon in mind, his erstwhile patron Commander Marcius._

_The judge in turn agreed with Annakarlianus, and hearing no objections, ruled that the human orator would be consumed by the Chthonian officer the same night, and that he would stay under house arrest until his execution._

_Once home, Annakarlianus retired to his office with his scribe, and set out to work on his last will and testament. Before he went in, he spoke to his major domo: He ordered the man to have servants fetch Forinthry wines, fruit, nuts, honeycakes, Kharidian spices and a new set of embroidered tablecloths. He also gave the man a substantial amount of money, and told him to buy the greatest crater Kairos the goldsmith had for sale. The major domo was naturally fazed: his master had just been condemned to death, what was there to celebrate?_

_“Why”, answered Annakarlianus, “my good friend Marcius is coming to dinner tonight.”_

_-Anonymous_  
\------------------  
Tikho, surnamed Annakarlian: layman scholar and orator of the early Imperial period. Born in the village of Annakarl, which later gave its name to the fortress, moved later to Senntisten. Author of several works on the art of speech and persuasion which derived heavily from the Infernal-Chthonian tradition and adapted them to human needs. Fell in disfavour for criticizing several high-ranking members of the clergy, condemned and executed for inciting unrest. Despite his end, Annakarlian’s Art of Rhetoric and On Persuasion remained as textbooks on the art of speaking


	3. Khidaia's Vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude from the Menaphite-Zarosian War.

At sundown, the priests came out to the Square of Eternal Fires to bless the braziers around the remains of Loarnab.  
The ritual progressed as it did three times a day, every day. The Pontifices came out in procession, two bearing torches and one carrying incense. And as every day, the torch-bearers stood by as the third one walked from brazier to brazier, consecrating the flames.

The rite was almost complete, when suddenly Pontifex Khidaia the Seer let out a scream and fell on the ground. She lay motionless on the flagstones for a few seconds, and then her body began to thrash uncontrollably. The other two priests abandoned their ritual, and now came to seize her lest she hurt herself in her fit. As soon as it had started, it ended, and she fell limp again. Then, her face deathly pale, her eyes staring ahead and seeing nothing, she rose on her knees and spoke. These were her words:

“It is done”, she whispered. “They walk this earth, and the rift closes again…it is done.”

Until then her voice had been barely above a whisper, but now it rose to a horrified wail. As a crowd gathered about, she continued. She said that the sky was red with fire and the streets ran red with blood. She said that the Basilica was burning, and that the Altar –meaning the one at the Primum Statum –lay cracked in half. She spoke of corpses in the Forinthry Canal, of air heavy with the stench of the unburied dead. She said that a team of Alyaroth were at the Silvarea Gate, and they were using chains to pull down the Guardians.

“They walk this earth, and they will walk on our graves. It is done” she repeated one more time, and fainted for good. I do not believe the last line had anything to do with any Avernics.

The patrol broke up the crowd to clear a way to the temple, and the unconscious priestess was carried inside. The mob lingered long afterwards, I among many others. What we were waiting for I cannot say, but I did not head home until it was dark. As I walked along Ceres Street, the temples and the pillars seemed unreal in the summer night’s air, and the people around me could as well have been ghosts.

Although I recall the event clearly and can definitely name the year, I sadly cannot date it. I remember only that it was briefly before full moon, and that a week later I received the news that the army’s progress in Kharid had been halted.

-Anonymous, Mid-Second Age.


	4. To Livia (Skyfires)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A letter written By a Zarosian soldier serving at Ghorrock Fortress to his wife in Senntisten.  
> Written in October 2015.

_My Livia,_

_I have not been able to write as the evacuation of the garrison left us with no time for anything but work and a little sleep. After the order to vacate came, we were busy packing up not only our belongings, but most of the fortress equipment and stockpiles as well._

_After that it was two days of marching to the frozen woods south-west of Ghorrock where we have now struck camp. When I look out, I see rows and rows of tents like the one I sit in, with fires outside and the snow trampled to dirty slush. Men sit huddled around the fires, cursing the cold and killing time with dice and card games. Outside the perimeter of the camp, there is nothing but dead, ice-covered trees and impenetrable darkness._

_I must stop here._

_-Livia, I’m continuing from where I left off an hour ago. As I was writing, we were suddenly called out for an announcement by the Centurion. He declared that we should not unpack our belongings as we would return to Ghorrock shortly. Following this proclamation there was general unrest and complaints, and the atmosphere in the camp has remained tense since. Wild rumours circulate and a few fights have broken out. But now I must go again, it is time for the evening meal._

_Continuing again, Livia, please bear with my breaks. I heard something strange over dinner: apparently two of our legion’s Tribunes have departed, and there is some confusion about when or if they will return or be replaced._

_I don’t care much for listening to people complain over things that cannot be changed, and so after the meal Treidek and I wandered to the edge of the forest to check if we could see any sky-fires. We did, and I wished dearly that you had been there to see them too. From the edge of the woods the great frozen plain stretched to the far horizon, and over it was a sky so dark and clear I thought I could have touched it. Below it in the air glowed lights, strange, multi-coloured lights, as if someone had hung glowing veils from the heavens. They wavered and swirled above our heads, a river of fire, green, liquid flames in turquoise and green and gold. If I have to remember one thing about this wretched place, I’ll remember them._

_As I watched the celestial lights, Treidek suddenly remarked on something. He pointed at the northern horizon and soon I could see why. Far away, but definitely in the direction of the Ghorrock Fortress, other lights could be seen. It looked almost like fireworks: Sparks of red and white light, explosions. Clouds of dust and smoke rose in the air, but could not obscure the flames. I don’t know how long we watched it, but I remember how it ended. There was a break of a few minutes, and then a great red blast followed by darkness._

_Unsettled, we walked back to camp where Treidek went away muttering something about seeing a man about a jar of potato brew. I’m using the last of a candle to write these lines, and then I shall turn in. Good night, Livia. It is only two hundred and fifty-three more nights like this until I sleep by your side again._

_I will see you again, and then you can introduce me to my son._

_Your Sostratos_

_Post Scriptum: I will quickly add this before handing the letter to a comrade returning to Senntisten: It is two days since I wrote the last lines, and this morning we were told to pack up. We are going back to Ghorrock. There is talk of the fortress needing repairs. We are also going to need a new fifth Tribune, because only one of them came back._


	5. O Senntisten

_Senntisten! O Senntisten, you glorious, you filthy one! O Senntisten, your spires touch the stars; your gutters overflow. Senntisten, your streets offer their flagstones to the boots of high-ranking priests and the bare feet of slaves and itinerants. Senntisten, your temples are many and great, and their robe-clad officials are many and great, and the crimes committed by them are many and great._

_Senntisten, you have been enjoyed by many, and kept by many, and you have inherited great fortunes. You are fed by the labour of others, and yet you stand lovelier than any of them, wearing reluctantly given gifts with immodest pride._

_Senntisten, you call yourself holy? There is nothing more sacrilegious than you._

-Aegidios of Kharyrll, poet and satirist of the late 2nd Age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But what happened then?
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6333151/chapters/14510764


	6. A Selection of Epigrams by the Praefectus Praetario Sliske

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sliske's poetry. Highly artistic.

_Nemesis ate a poet, and now styles himself a lyricist._

_Picus ate a seer and  claims he can interpret omens._

_Orcus, you feed at night in the lanes south of Silvarea,_

_What should I call you?_

_***_

_Viggora the human basks in glory: he has been promoted, and now has a seat at the generals’ table._

_Drakan and Nemesis would love to elevate him even higher:_

_They think he should sit on a platter._

_***_

_Azzanadra, you have something for everyone,_

_You can mould your manner to fit in with any crowd._

_When among your own, you go on about Mother Mah;_

_Her merciless law, and the natural right of the strongest._

_Turning your back on us, you greet the Chthonian dukes,_

_Speaking in their own accents, perfected with practice;_

_One would think you were spawned by an identical parent!_

_Then you go to sit down with the humans at a banquet,_

_Toasting with honeyed wine, and not a muscle twitches on your face,_

_As you down cup after cup and sample delicacies you’ll have to throw up later._

_Now I hear you are headed to Hallowland for peace-talks._

_Should I not accompany you, and see with my own eyes,_

_Whether you’ll sprout wings from your arse and praise Saradomin?_

_***_

_[…] Told your […] brother […] no more epigrams._

-From The Letters of Pontifex maximus Azzanadra to Legatus Wahisietel vol. 24.

(Translated from Infernal by Ali the Wise of Nardah)


	7. For All Her Glory

_For all her glory, there are very few things I want in Senntisten._

_A rest in a proper bed, a bath at the palace thermae when they are empty. I will mind my affairs, attend whatever formalities I can’t avoid, and catch up with those acquaintances I want to see. I will play two or three games of chess with Azzanadra, and avoid my brother at all costs._

Legatus Wahisietel: The Campaign Journals


End file.
